Unforgettable
by annamoore
Summary: Dean comes home covered in scratches and come with a pocket full of cash - it doesn't take a genius to work out what happened. And Sam is pretty much a genius, which is why he knows that Dean belongs to him, and he belongs to Dean. And then they have hot sex, amen.


**A/N: This has been posted on my Tumblr and AO3 account, so I figured I'd stick it here as well. Warnings for underage (Sam is 15), fingering, blow jobs, the whole incest thing, and a whole lot of foul language. If that is not your particular bucket of fish then I suggest you shuffle on. To those who enjoy hardcore brotherfucking with some intermixed feelings, I hope you enjoy your stay, you perfect, perverted human being xox. **

**xXx**

The pristine white of the paper was smudged and crinkled by the time Sam had finished with it, he held it loosely in his hand, reading over the words written one more time before scrunching it closed and taking a deep breath.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," he drawled, resisting the urge to peek at the paper and check that he'd started it off correctly.

"Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii," that was the bit that Dean always stuffed up on. Sam would have given him a triumphant look – that is, if he was _here. _

"Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica." It's not like dad was here either. He was off in Tallahassee or Mississippi hunting a wendigo or vampires or a werewolf, _god_ it didn't even matter anymore.

"Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias-" Sam faltered, looked to his left where Dean might have been sitting only to realize that Dean wasn't fucking _there. _Because he was off _somewhere_ after a mumbled 'don't wait up' and a seedy wink.

"Ergo, draco maledicte." Sam finished the sentence and nodded to himself, smiling slightly despite his anger. His _righteous_ anger, because it was bad enough that his dad had to leave him by himself, but his _brother_ too?

"Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire," but maybe it was better that Dean wasn't around when Sam was feeling like this – barely suppressed rage and bone tiredness after a few too many sleepless nights from training and studying and calling his dad because _silver didn't work. _

"Te rogamus," because if Dean _was_ here right now, Sam would have to act like he was normal. He'd have to avert his eyes every time Dean licked his too-plush lips, he'd have to try and stem the blush when Dean's touches lingered too long, and he might even have to hold a pillow over his lap when Dean got out of the shower because apparently using a towel isn't _cool enough_ for _Dean Winchester._

"Audi nos." He finished the excorcism and looked around the shitty motel room, still alone. Still just the weird kid at school with a knife collection, no friends, and an erection for his older brother.

Sam sighed, wondered how much longer Dean would be, wondered if Dean would congratulate him for learning the exorcism all by himself.

"Well done, Sammy." He said to himself, pushing his hair out of his face lazily like Dean did when he was too tired to ruffle it properly.

Just then he heard it: the spluttering of the car Dean had hotwired after Dad took the impala, pulling into the motel car park.

Sam decided he didn't want to put up with Dean's half baked excuses and older brother looks, because then Sam would probably _forgive _him, or something unspeakable like that.

So he turned off the light and jumped into bed, pulling the covers over his jeans and closing his eyes, steadying his breathing so that after Dean had open the door, Sam heard him pause.

Heard him toe off his boots and quietly lock the room up. Heard as he slipped off his jacket and whispered 'goodnight, Sammy' before heading towards the bathroom.

God, Sam had already forgiven him.

The bathroom light flicked on and Sam risked opening one eye, watching his brother in the open doorway.

Dean was just as beautiful as he had been three hours ago with his back facing Sam's bed, making his stomach lurch. He was barely nineteen, somehow passable as twenty one already even though Sam still looked like he was twelve despite having turned fifteen a whole eight months ago.

And _god_, were his teenage hormones a bitch. Even looking at Dean in the half-assed light of the motel bathroom was making his stomach twist in aroused interest.

Dean was digging in his pockets, pulling something out and putting it on the sink. It took Sam a while to realize that it was money – scrunched up bills seemingly being pulled from his pockets at random until there was a little pile of hundred dollar notes, right there next to the damn toothpaste.

He must have been hustling pool, then. But Sam had never seen him win _that_ much.

Dean shrugged out of his jacket next, wincing slightly with the movement. He placed it over the toilet seat and then moved to take off his shirt, unbuttoning it and pulling it over his head.

Sam couldn't stop his body from sitting up in bed when he caught a glimpse of Dean's back. The muscled and perfect planes of his body were filthy, covered in scratches and dirt and – oh _god_ – an unmistakable white substance that was flaking on his neck.

"Dean," it had come out involuntarily, like a sigh or a whimper.

"Go back to sleep, Sammy." He shot it over his shoulder in a gruff command.

"What happened to you?" He asked, pulling the sheets up over his waist so that Dean couldn't see he was wearing jeans in bed.

"Nothing, kiddo. Get some rest." Dean's voice was heavy, it was that tone of voice that was so close to _done_ that Sam couldn't stand it. It was the voice he used when dad yelled at him for forgetting to look after Sam, the voice he spoke in when Sam was crying, the one that sounded like nineteen years of suppressed tears and growing up too quickly.

Sam had slipped out of bed before finishing the thought, walking into the bathroom purposefully until he stood behind his brother, looking at his reflection in the mirror and taking in the scratches on his chest, the bruised lips, the fact there was more drying cum in his hair and on the front of his neck.

He let his eyes travel to the crumpled bills and finally made the connection. Finally realized what the hell his brother was doing in order to feed the two of them.

"Dean," this time Sam's voice was heavy, and Dean's head was ducked and his fists were balled.

"Get out." Dean said softly – taking his emotions and reverting them into violence. Just like he always did.

So Sam retaliated – he stepped closer, leaned in slowly and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of one of the scratches.

Dean tensed, and it seemed like he was going to get Sam out of the bathroom by force if he didn't move quickly. So Sam did it again, pressing his lips to another scratch.

"Sam," Dean said, but his voice wasn't angry anymore, it was softer – like when Dean told stories about mom.

Sam picked up a flannel from the sink, wet it with warm water and shushed his brother when he tried to protest.

Moving around his body, he started at his right shoulder blade. Sweeping the cloth over the damaged skin and cleaning away the dirt, peppering kisses on all the marks when he finished. Next he went to the left shoulder blade, scrubbing away the mess and replacing it with kisses.

He traced the cloth over Dean's spine and then scrubbed it up his hips, squatting down to press kisses to a bruise halfway up his back.

When Sam moved to Dean's front, there were tears on his face. He wiped those away, too, pressing the cloth up his cheeks and then kissing either side of his face before moving to his neck, scrubbing away the semen entirely and then washing down his pecs.

Sam was starting to feel that tug in his belly again – that insistent arousal that was never too far gone. He wet the cloth, wrung it out, tried not to make a big deal over the fact that he was in love with his brother as he pressed the damp cloth to his abs and then up over his ribs.

When Sam finished, he looked back up at Dean's face and found his brother's eyes intense on his, Dean's lip caught between his teeth. When he released it, a smear of blood remained.

Taking in a shaky breath, Sam pressed the corner of the cloth to his mouth, cleaning away the red smudge, and then swallowed noisily, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his brother's mouth.

When Sam pulled away his brother's mouth had fallen open, the pout even more pronounced, his eyes half-mast.

The air between them was charged then, and Sam wanted to say something.

_I'm sorry you had to sleep with men to pay for our dinner. _

_I'm sorry I didn't know. _

_I'm sorry you got hurt. _

_I'm sorry I kissed you. _

But Dean was still just standing there with his lips parted and his eyes on Sam's face, reading every flickering emotion. And then a strangled whimper was coming out of Sam's mouth and he was surging back to his toes, kissing Dean – he was _kissing Dean – _and gripping his shoulders desperately.

His brother was unresponsive – _he's your fucking _brother_, you freak –_ and Sam allowed himself one last swipe of his tongue against Dean's lips before he pulled away, tears stinging behind his eyes.

Dean was just looking at him though, and when he saw the first tear bead properly and fall down Sam's cheek, his mouth twitched and he sighed.

"Oh, Sammy." He said softly, leaning forward and taking his little brother's body in his arms like it weighed nothing, one hand wrapping around his waist and the other around his shoulder, slotting their bodies together _so closely_ and butting his nose against Sam's chin to tilt it upwards before leaning in slowly – so slowly, slower than Sam believed time should be rightfully allowed to move, and kissed him.

It was an inexperienced kiss, the kind of cautious kiss of someone who hadn't done it before. Sam knew Dean had kissed loads of people, knew Dean was being extra careful, wondered if maybe Dean had ever kissed someone _like this. _

Sam heard whimpers from his own mouth getting caught in Dean's as they relearned kissing, educated themselves entirely on the anatomy of each other's mouths, tongues slotting together inquisitively and lips shifting.

And it was such a beautiful moment until Sam's teenage hormones had to jump in and ruin _everything._

He felt the arousal in his belly spread lower, felt as his cock started to harden, felt his body tense when he realized that his slowly hardening cock was currently trapped against his brother's thigh, felt the blush spreading over his face and down his neck.

Dean, for his part, said nothing. But when he felt Sam go from pliant and eager to stiff and awkward, he just kissed harder and angled Sam's body, and Sam thought that maybe Dean was moving them so that he couldn't feel his freak little brother's erection on his thigh, but then Dean was pushing their bodies together at a different angle and Sam felt something new against his cock that was-

_Oh. _

Dean was hard.

The whine that came out of Sam's mouth made Dean smile against his lips, his hands shifting to cup Sam's ass and pull him even closer and _god_ that felt _so good. _

Dean pulled away from his brother's lips, and Sam pushed forward to get the contact back but then Dean was shushing him, massaging circles into the base of his spine.

"If you want this to go any further then you're going to need to let me use the shower." Dean told him, and his voice was completely different- this wasn't one that Sam could classify. This was low, smoky and dangerous. This was commanding and loving and comforting and so, _so_ sexual.

"Why don't you go wait on the bed, Sammy? Make yourself comfortable? Maybe get out of your jeans?" Dean asked, leaning down to mouth against his neck slightly and Sam shivered, nodding desperately.

Dean smirked at him and started unbuttoning his jeans and _wow_, Sam was allowed to look.

But he wanted to save it.

Because Dean wanted to do _more_ with him.

So he turned away and walked back to the bedroom they were sharing, flicking on the light and scrambling out of his jeans, wondering just how many clothes he should be taking off.

He shrugged out of his shirt as well, just in case, leaving him in grey briefs and an over-eager smile that only intensified when his brother stepped into the room – only two minutes in the shower, hair still dripping, rivulets of water running down his body to stain the blue briefs he was wearing a darker blue.

The scratches and bruises looked almost faded in the light, like Sam's attention to them had somehow healed the marks prematurely.

"You sure about this, Sam?" Dean asked

"'Course," Sam muttered, ducking his head. "Wanted you for, like, ever."

Dean didn't laugh like Sam thought he would, instead he knelt on the bed beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"The…" He trailed off and sighed. "The sex, with the other men. I did it for- for the money for you, Sammy. But I always-" he was biting his lip too hard, Sam wanted to kiss it away. "I always imagined they were you. When they were doing…" Dean shook his head. "You don't want to hear about this."

"What did they do tonight, Dean?" Sam asked seriously, raising his eyebrows, and Dean choked on his words before answering.

"Just two blow jobs." He answered quickly.

"And did you imagine…" Sam found it was harder to do this 'sexy talk' than he thought it might have been. Maybe it was because it was _Dean._ "Did you imagine it was me?"

Dean smirked, and _god_, Sam just knew that _Dean_ was going to know exactly how to dirty talk.

He was moving on the bed now, trapping Sam's smaller body between his arms, planting his hands either side of him on the bed and leaning forwards, so the heat of his body was radiating across Sam's naked chest and his mouth was hot next to his ear.

"Always wanted it to be you, Sammy." He said in that low voice. "No idea how long I've been thinking of getting that sweet cock in my mouth, baby. The noises you'd make, how desperately you'd be begging for it."

Sam steeled his nerves, thought to himself to _be more like Dean_, and replied:

"And yet, you were off sucking their cocks and leaving me here with my right hand and a million pages of study to do?" Sam asked, pushing Dean upwards and then back, using all of his strength and training until Dean was laying flat on his back, eyes blown wide with lust.

"You don't think that I didn't want my big brother sucking my cock?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows. "Didn't think that maybe I was having the same fantasies about tasting your cock?"

"Jesus Sammy, where'd you learn to talk like that?" Dean asked breathlessly, his fingers carding through Sam's hair and then pulling him close to kiss him harshly, biting at his lips.

"If you don't want me talking, you're going to need to put something in my mouth." Sam whispered, sucking his tongue suggestively. It was Dean's turn to whimper, hips stuttering upwards so his erection brushed against Sam's hip and that was just _too damn tempting. _

Sam immediately started moving down his brother's body – too eager, too quickly – bypassing things that he wanted to linger on.

The shape of Dean's nipples – he was only able to give them teasing lick which made Dean draw in a breath that was a little harsher than his others.

The flavour of his abdominals – he traced the line of them with his tongue, but he would need more time later to commit to memory every bump.

The line of his hips – one bite on either side because now he was rushing, nuzzling into his prize, pressing his face flush against the rigid line of Dean's cock.

"_Jesus_, Sammy." His brother was saying, and Sam was breathing in the smell of him and feeling his cock pulse in his underwear.

He tugged down Dean's briefs, pulling them off his feet and tossing them somewhere in the room before moving back to his cock and _oh god, _he could take his time later, because Sam finally had his big brother, naked, hard and ready underneath him and it was all Sam could do to hold off another second before swallowing down his brother's cock as far as it would go.

A gasp tore out of Dean, turning into a moan when Sam pulled off and started tonguing at the head, lapping at the precum taste of him and swallowing happily, suckling on the slit, feeling more precum pulse and gathering that on his tongue, too, because _Christ_ Dean tasted good.

"You like that?" Dean asked, one hand winding into his hair. "You drinking your older brother's precum because you love sucking cock so much, Sammy?"

Sam groaned around the head of his cock, swallowing it down again and working his throat carefully.

"Oh god, you're trying to get as much of me in your mouth as possible, baby? Do you love choking on your brother's dick?"

Sam dug his fingers into Dean's hips, sucking more desperately and feeling his erection throbbing in his pants.

"Had no idea my little brother was such a cockslut, _god_, maybe you should have been the one sucking cock for money, hey Sammy? Only no one else is allowed to touch you like this." Dean tightened the fingers that had been in Sam's hair, almost aggressively pulling and _that shouldn't be a turn on_ but then again, he was sucking his brother's dick – what was one more kink.

"You're mine, ok? My Sammy. Always take care of you, always give you what you want. Especially when you want your big brother's dick so much. _God_, Sammy slow up or I'm gunna come."

Sam pulled off then, looking up at his brother with wide eyes. "Want it, Dean." He said softly, his throat scratchy. "Want your come, want to taste it."

"_Shit,"_ Dean whispered, his hand moving to Sam's face to tug his mouth open using his thumb, sliding his cock in alongside and thrusting slightly, and Sam lapped at the underside of Dean's cock and let him fuck into his mouth, groaning the whole time.

Eventually Dean's thrusts lost their rhythm and he whispered out a low _Sammy_ before he filled his brother's mouth, semen coating his tongue and spilling out over his lips. Sam swallowed noisily, licking his lips and staring up at his brother who moved his hand from Sam's hair down to his shoulder, hauling his skinny body up until they were lying lengthwise, bodies pressed close together and noses touching.

"Wanna come, Sammy?" Dean asked, tracing fingers lightly over his shoulders and back until they reached his briefs, teasingly playing with the elastic.

"Yeah," Sam said quietly, pushing his erection against Dean's naked thigh, feeling the shock of it make his whole body shake.

"Take your underpants off," Dean told him, and Sam pushed himself onto his knees so he could tug them away from his body. Dean drank in the sight of him, smirking all the while.

"Wet like a girl, aren't you baby?" Dean asked, pressing an inquisitive finger to the messy precum that was smeared across the top of his dick and abdomen. "How do you want to come?"

"_Dean,"_ Sam whined, not able to articulate that _literally anything is fine, please just let me come._

"Want me to suck you like your good little whore?" Dean asked. "Or want me to eat out your ass? Or would you like to rut against my thigh like a little slut while I finger your ass, Sammy?"

"_Yes,"_ Sam said as soon as the sentence was out of Dean's mouth. "Want- ugh – want your fingers." Sam whispered.

"Anything you want, Sammy." Dean whispered, pulling him close again and pushing his thigh between Sam's open legs so his dick slotted into the indent of Dean's thigh and pelvis. "God, look at you. So desperate for it. Beautiful, Sammy."

Sam let out a huff of air against his brother's neck, pushing his cock into the soft skin and moaning quietly, picking up a slow rhythm of thrusting.

Dean's hands were palming his ass, kneading the flesh slowly until one of them abruptly came out in a harsh slap that made Sam jerk his hips, the movement sending shocks of pleasure to his dick.

Dean slapped him twice more before pulling apart his cheeks and running fingers over his hole, mouthing at his neck while he was doing it, sucking at his pulse point and leaving a necklace of hickeys on his skin.

He raised one hand, tracing over Sam's cheeks before pressing it into his mouth – and Sam barely had the presence of mind to slicken those fingers with his tongue before they were retreating back to his ass, wetting the rim of his hole and teasingly pushing in.

"Relax, baby." Dean soothed. "Open up for me."

He pushed in one finger and the intrusion felt incredible, Sam torn between pushing forward to the friction of Dean's thigh or backwards to the delicious heat of Dean's hand. Soon Dean was matching his rhythm, though, thrusting his finger in and out with the movement of his hips and Sam was in _heaven. _

Dean soon added a second finger, groaning quietly to himself.

"Yeah, Sam. So eager for me, so open. God, I bet you'd let me slide my cock right in there, wouldn't you? Maybe one day, little brother, for now I just want to keep you open like this. Feel so good on my fingers, so _tight." _

"Dean," Sam moaned, feeling his stomach coiling, ready to release, and the rhythm of Dean's fingers was punishing and then he was crooking them, searching for something-

The moment he found Sam's prostate was the moment Sam came, shooting his load between their bodies and silently screaming his release, letting Dean talk him through it.

"Look so beautiful, baby, yeah let it all out for your brother. God Sam. Love you so much."

"Love you too, Dean." Sam replied sleepily. Dean chuckled, using Sam's discarded briefs to clean up their stomachs before tugging his brother against him so Sam could pillow his head on Dean's chest.

"How about we get some sleep?" Dean suggested.

"Ok," Sam replied, happily nuzzling into the warmth of Dean's body.

"And Dean?"

"Mm?"

"No more sex work, ok?" Sam mumbled against his skin.

"No more." Dean agreed.

Years and years later, after Stanford, after Jess, after Yellow Eyes and Ruby, after Lucifer and Leviathans, after Metatron and God and everything in between, they lay in the same position.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean said quietly. "Remember our first night?"

"How could I forget?" Sam replied with a smile.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "That night was unforgettable, because I love you, and you're my _only_ brother an- _SHIT WE FORGOT ADAM_."

**xXx**

**Hope you enjoyed! xx**


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